The child star of Slumdog Millionaire never won a contest. He never won millions. He remains, to this day, in his Indian slum. Which was bulldozed this morning.

Who didn’t fall in love with the little boy that climbed through the bottom of an outhouse in order to beg for the autograph of his favourite actor? The boy who drew us into the slums of India, who pulled us forward into dirt and grime with shining eyes, as if he were above it all?

But he wasn’t. That was his home. Hollywood, or ‘Bollywood,’ used this little boy and his very real life, as Nike uses child labour, to pull at our heart-strings.

$326 million and eight Oscars later, the boy remains in his slum. Which makes no sense at all.

Oh—for a while he was showered with fame and gifts. But no one considered taking some of the movie’s profits and providing a better life for the now homeless star.

And to think, I fell for it. Along with the rest of America. I sat there eating popcorn letting the movie make me believe in ‘happily ever afters.’ Distracting me from the ever unjust system we live in.

I walked away from the movie feeling okay about my laptop and leather couch and lazy evening at home. After all, life was cozy. The little boy was safe now. No more slums.

I went to sleep that night believing a bold-faced lie. Woke up to the news that a bulldozer had knocked down the little boy’s home. With no one trying to stop it.

We were duped. And so was the child star of Slumdog Millionaire.

http://ctv.qwapi.com/site?t=qqGoJtacqA4Xw7lhvC-KTw&sid=ctv